


Experience

by Adenil



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Cunnilingus, First Time, Non-Human Genitalia, Sex Bending, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 11:41:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16786267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adenil/pseuds/Adenil
Summary: Spock visits Doctor McCoy with a once-in-a-lifetime request.





	Experience

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this like a zillion years ago and just realized that I never uploaded it here. Whoops! Originally submitted to Spiced Peaches.

“I wish to experience a vaginal orgasm,” Spock said, and McCoy gave the only reasonable response, which was to spit out his drink and dissolve into a panicked coughing fit.

Up until that point McCoy had been enjoying a quiet night in with a nip of bourbon and a good book after what had been a long day filled with generalized worry over the state of Spock’s health.

Things had started simply enough--they always started that way. A quiet morning. Some coffee. A quick beam down to check out a new planet. A little sunshine, some birds chirping, and then Spock had stumbled upon an alien device and vanished into it for two hours.

McCoy and Jim had worried and fretted until some of the local aliens wandered over. They’d been annoyed to see the device already in use, but no amount of diplomacy or cajoling could get them to open it up and let Spock out. Couldn’t be done, they’d said. You just had to wait.

So he and Jim had sat on the lawn and picked at the grass until the device gave a pleasant ding like an oven timer and opened back up, and a Vulcan stepped out that couldn’t possibly be Spock, but had to be.

It was simple, really. Or at least Spock had declared it so before launching into an explanation that had left McCoy winded and more confused than ever. The device had simply scanned Spock, isolated his genetic profile, and then did a few switches before extrapolating what he would have looked like if he’d gotten a Y-chromosome from his father instead of an X, plus a few other minor changes, and then the device had patiently remapped his body and spit him out smaller and narrower and hippier, but nevertheless _Spock_.

Spock had immediately declared the experience “fascinating,” and McCoy had rolled his eyes and declared him healthy despite the body transmogrification.

He’d still insisted on tests, of course, but nothing worrisome turned up. The local aliens told them the change would last only a day, at which point Spock would go back to his usual self. He should take an analgesic, they said. For the growing pains.

When asked why the aliens had such a device they’d frowned, confused, and said, “For fun.”

McCoy did have to admit the whole idea was intriguing (and, yes, he admitted begrudgingly to himself, it _would_ be fun to have a different body for a day. He still had fond memories of the time the transporter had switched him out with Scotty and he’d gotten to feel the strangeness of being half as wide and twice as wiry). If he’d had a better grasp of the long term effects of the device he might have given it a spin himself. But they didn’t really know what it would do long-term (although the aliens told them it was great for the sinuses) and so he gave it only a passing thought.

Spock, though, just had to wait out his change. There was nothing to make it pass any faster or last any longer. He had about twenty-two hours to experience whatever he was going to experience, and then he’d be back to normal. And, apparently, what he wanted to experience was sex.

Or maybe not sex, McCoy thought, hacking into his elbow. Just an orgasm. That was almost clinical. Detached. Spock, ever the scientist, was probably just here to collect data.

McCoy hadn’t been too surprised when Spock had chimed his door that evening. Spock had been visiting him off-duty with more frequency since his half-confession on Altamid and their stay on Yorktown, where they’d hung out and become mostly friendly with each other. McCoy understood that it was just Spock’s awkward way of maintaining a friendship with him. Just like chess with Jim. Every few nights Spock would stop by and sit on his couch. Sometimes they would talk about work, or literature, or family. Sometimes they would argue about philosophy, or ethics, or what kind of tea to have. Sometimes--like he’d thought they would do tonight--they would just sit in silence and enjoy each other’s company.

Spock hadn’t said anything to him since he’d come in, so his sudden statement had McCoy reeling.

“Jesus,” he said, wishing he had a glass of water but too frozen with shock to go get one. “Uh, why are you telling me this?”

Spock frowned very slightly. His lips were fuller and rounder now than they had been before, but they were precisely the same color, and his mouth still formed the same thin line of distaste he got whenever McCoy said something he thought was illogical. McCoy noted this, then wished he didn’t know so much about Spock’s lips. He snapped his gaze up to Spock’s eyes before his crush could start showing.

“You are a doctor,” Spock said as if it were very obvious. “I assumed you would be able to assist me.”

Assist…? He shook off the images that sprang unbidden to his mind and gripped his half-drunk glass of bourbon for support. He wished he had managed to get more than just a few sips into the bourbon tonight. He needed his strength to weather the storm of this conversation. “Well,” he said slowly. “I could get you the specs for some...uh, aides. Some tools to help find the right spot.”

“You are referring to dildos?”

McCoy choked, rasping. “Yeah.”

Spock shook his head. “I had considered that and dismissed the idea. I am uncertain if I would be able to learn the responses of this new body quickly enough to bring myself to orgasm. I understand the technique is somewhat complex.”

“It’s not that complex,” McCoy muttered. He frowned at his bourbon before setting it down. It was a crutch and he was better off without it. He folded his hands together and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward to stare at Spock, who still sat primly on the couch as if they were having a casual conversation about the weather.

Spock had found himself a new uniform somewhere between beaming up from the planet and visiting McCoy in his quarters. It was the trouser uniform, tailored for his new temporary body. The sides of the shirt were darted to pinch in, and the front was shaped for his new chest. It fit him well. Very, very well.

“What, uh…” McCoy cleared his throat. “What makes you so sure you wouldn’t be able to do it?”

Spock gave him a look. “Because I have already attempted to do so.” That made McCoy’s brain hiccup and stall, but before he could regain his senses Spock was already droning on. “Dr. McCoy, perhaps I should be more clear in my request. I am asking for your expertise as a doctor, yes, but I am also asking because I am aware that you have frequently engaged in sexual intercourse with female persons, and have therefore developed your capabilities in that area.”

“Frequently…?” That was a bit of an overstatement. Spock made it sound like he was Jim Kirk or something, but he could only think of three times he’d had sex since leaving Earth, and only one of them had even gotten under the clothes, and that person hadn’t even been female. That didn’t mean he didn’t know his way around the human--or rather, _humanoid_ —body, but he was still surprised that Spock would say that. “What about you? You’ve...well, I mean. You dated Uhura for years.”

“Unfortunately, I have discovered that attempting to pleasure myself is quite different from pleasuring another.”

“Different how?” McCoy asked, instead of doing what he wanted to do, which was burst into giggles.

“More…” Spock thought for a moment before finally settling on, “Distracting. I cannot maintain my focus.”

McCoy nodded, preoccupied. He had an ex like that from the summer before he’d started college. With him, her body sang, but left to her own devices she just seemed bored by the whole thing. So he could sort of understand where Spock was coming from, but he still couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

“Spock...why are you asking _me_ to do this?”

He was quiet a moment, eyes downcast, and suddenly McCoy realized Spock was looking at him. At his hands, still clasped before him, fingers interlacing. He watched as Spock’s lips slightly parted to release a soft exhale. “You are my friend.”

Something in the room shifted. Previously, McCoy had been sort of vaguely aroused--the kind of arousal that happened just because the context was sexual--but that changed with Spock’s quiet declaration. Spock’s face was very open, almost vulnerable, in that moment. The sight of him sent a spark of desire coursing through McCoy’s body, and he shivered. He’d always desired Spock. At first it had just been a physical want--Spock was attractive, after all--and that had gradually shifted into the need to just shut Spock up with his mouth or hands or whatever he could use. But eventually his simmering annoyance at everything Spock did had faded. He felt a...fondness, now. A fondness that made him desperate to curl their bodies together, slide his lips over Spock’s skin, run his hands along Spock’s body, get so close that he forgot where he ended and Spock began.

Friends. So what would that make them after this? Fuck buddies? Friends with benefits? When the change faded, would Spock pretend the whole thing had never happened? McCoy thought that was pretty likely, but in the same thought he realized that wasn’t going to stop him from seizing his one chance to make love to Spock.

“All right,” he said after the silence had gone on just a touch too long. “Spock, I’d be…happy to help you.”

Spock straightened, looking excited. His eyes were the same as ever, and they still betrayed a depth of emotion that Spock himself was likely unaware of, or chose to ignore. “I am pleased to hear that, Doctor,” he said, and then he stood up and started to take off his shirt.

“Whoa!” McCoy looked away, but not in time to avoid seeing the flash of Spock’s plain black bra. “Just wait a second!”

Spock made a miffed noise, but McCoy could see him lowering his shirt again in his peripheral vision. “Is there a problem?”

“No.” He swallowed more panicked laughter, hiding it beneath a gruff growl. “Haven’t you ever heard of foreplay?”

“Of course I have.” Spock still sounded miffed, and when McCoy looked at him again Spock was practically glaring at him. “I am adept at foreplay.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure you are.” And really, he _was_ sure. Spock was too methodical and too attentive to be bad at it, even if he sometimes pretended to have all the emotional availability of a bent fork. He gave Spock one of his winning smiles--the one that always made the guys and gals and other folks back home swoon--and kept his voice warm as he said, “Why don’t you sit back down?”

Spock didn’t swoon. McCoy’s smile bounced right off his thick skull. But he did sit, and after a minute McCoy got the courage to get off his ass and go sit beside him. They were a half-meter apart and McCoy looked at his hands and thought back to high school when he’d gone with Jet Wilder to the Halloween dance and been too embarrassed even to kiss him.

“I’m assuming you did your research on this?” he said. “The, uh, orgasm stuff, I mean.”

“I studied the available data. Given the shortened window of time available, I was not able to research it as intensively as I would have under other circumstances.”

“Right,” he said, and then again. “Right. It’s just...you know that most people can’t orgasm through vaginal stimulation alone, right?”

“Yes. I still wish to attempt the process.”

McCoy let out a huge sigh, nodding to himself. He realized he wasn’t looking at Spock and so he turned to him, feeling pinned beneath Spock’s stare. Spock was just as intense and inquisitive as ever, not even flinching as the force of his gaze held McCoy down. And of course he was the same. Why should he be any different just because his body was? It was just that McCoy couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t quite Spock that he was looking at. He hadn’t gotten used to it yet.

He probably never would, he thought wryly, since the transformation would be reversed in a few short hours, and he used the thought to give him the strength to slide a little closer to Spock. Spock kept still as he moved in, his right eyebrow twitching as if it took all of his energy not to raise it. And there was something that was the same: his eyebrows. They were just exactly the same shape, although McCoy suspected he plucked them.

His hand seemed to be moving of its own accord, and he watched, detached, as his ring and middle finger came to rest on the arch of Spock’s brow. He brushed softly with the grain of the hairs there, smoothing them, and Spock leaned in to the contact.

His face was smaller, but still long and regal and somber. McCoy trailed his touch to Spock’s temple and then down over his high cheekbone. He cupped Spock’s jaw and thought about his lips for a long, long time before releasing him.

His hair was the same length and ridiculous style, and was just as silky and soft as McCoy had always imagined it would be. He ran his fingers through the strands and let his thumbs duck down to tickle the tips of Spock’s ears.

Spock shivered. “Doctor?”

“You can touch too, you know.”

Spock’s hands were slender, and his fingers seemed proportionally longer than before. He rested one slim palm on McCoy’s thigh and the other on his neck, his thumb wrenching silent shivers from him as it brushed over his skin.

“Let me know if you want anything to stop,” McCoy said as he slowly worked his hands down Spock’s neck and over his clavicle.

Spock nodded, tipping his chin up, and then his brow scrunched as McCoy touched his hands to his breasts.

There wasn’t much to hold, and so McCoy focused on the nipples, letting his fingers tease them through the fabric of Spock’s shirt. Spock arched minutely into the contact--the first indication he actually liked what was going on--and so McCoy did it again. Spock’s eyes were half-lidded, brow still furrowed in concentration, and McCoy had to look away. He looked down at where his hands seemed to have a mind of their own and were gently fondling Spock.

He gulped. He could see Spock’s nipples, pebbled and tight, poking out through his bra and uniform top. He knew Spock’s nipples did that from time to time, but they were larger now. More visible.

McCoy left one hand pleasuring Spock and use the other to lift the hem of Spock’s shirt and slipped beneath to touch his soft skin, exploratory and gentle. Spock’s hand curled around the back of his neck and tugged, pulling him close enough their foreheads touched.

This close he could hear Spock breathing slow and steady. Not at all the panting mess McCoy wanted him to be. Since touching him with one hand seemed to be going fine--or at least not poorly--he let the other dip under Spock’s shirt and pushed it up to cup his chest again, massaging and pinching and rolling through his soft black bra.

“Is this okay?”

Spock nodded.

McCoy bit his lip. He was so close that Spock’s breath brushed his lips, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss him. But he was pretty sure that was outside the bounds of what they were doing. This was about Spock’s pleasure, not about his weird attraction to him.

“Spock, I...It’s really hard to tell whether you like it or not.”

In answer, Spock pulled away. McCoy panicked for a moment before realizing Spock was just removing his shirt. He shucked it off and cast it aside, pressing his chest back into McCoy’s searching hands.

“I apologize,” Spock said, his words finally slipping towards breathless as McCoy touched him with renewed vigor. “I will endeavor to control my reactions less strictly.”

“Good.” He pinched Spock’s nipple and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, delighting in Spock’s open-mouthed gasp. “I’ll need all the feedback I can get to make sure this works.”

Spock nodded. “Logical.”

He felt giddy. Eventually he worked his way down to the front clasp of Spock’s bra and undid it, pushing it back and off Spock’s shoulders. Spock’s breasts were small and pert--which made sense. After all, they’d never had to deal with the drag of gravity. He’d seen Spock shirtless before and noted that his areolae were only slightly larger, but that his color was deeper, more green. Almost the color of spring leaves.

They looked delicious, and McCoy bowed his head to confirm, sighing as he closed his lips around one peaked nipple.

Spock arched into the contact, his hands falling to McCoy’s back. He began touching him--massaging him, really--running his hands down McCoy’s spine before cupping his neck to draw his mouth closer, and then digging his fingers into McCoy’s shoulders. McCoy suckled first one, then the other, and then went back to the first one when the cold of his saliva evaporating left Spock’s nipple too enticing to ignore.

Now that Spock was bare, McCoy admired his pale skin. He’d thought Spock would be hairless, but that wasn’t the case. It was just that what was there was so fine as to be almost translucent. His arms were still coated, ticking McCoy’s ears as Spock hugged him close, and his chest had only a few hairs dotted enticingly over the swell of flesh. And his stomach--McCoy hummed as he ran his fingers through the soft hair there, irrationally pleased that Spock still had that tempting trail.

He had wanted to touch Spock like this so many times, and it was almost a disappointment that Spock was so different. Almost, but not quite. It was still Spock underneath it all, he realized. Still Spock arching up into his mouth, flexing beneath his hands, letting his legs fall apart as McCoy trailed his fingers over the front of his fly.

“Doctor,” Spock said pleadingly, tugging at his shirt.

“Right,” McCoy said, slightly dazed. He pulled away and watched, interested, as the cold made Spock’s nipples perk up even more. They looked tender and flushed, and he really wanted to touch them again, but they had a deadline to keep.

He sat back and pulled off his shirt, tossing it towards Spock’s. He was about to get right back to work, but he stopped at Spock’s hand on his sternum.

Spock was frowning at him--or not precisely frowning. Just looking at him very closely, so intently that McCoy’s blood ran hot. He let him look. Let Spock touch his broad, bare shoulders before moving down to test the reaction of McCoy’s nipples (unfortunately muted). Spock stroked his biceps and then down, encircling McCoy’s wrists before softly touching his palms with the pads of his first two fingers.

Then Spock pulled away and unfastened the front of his pants.

He had to lie back, and McCoy had to tug on them, but soon he was flushed and nude. McCoy shuddered at the sight of him all stretched out on the couch, cataloguing everything, and he really did feel a pang of disappointment. If this was to be their only time he regretted that he wouldn’t be able to memorize Spock’s body as it would be tomorrow and every other day.

But this was good, he told himself, resting his hands on Spock’s narrow waist. Spock murmured at the contact, his brown eyes following McCoy’s every motion as he worked down to Spock’s leg, bending it and pushing it aside.

He saw that Spock was still dry, and that made him frown because he’d _thought_ he was doing a good job with the fondling and all. But regardless, he could take care of that.

Spock jumped as he pressed his lips to the top of his mound. “McCoy?”

His last name made him wince, but he still looked up along the length of Spock’s body. “What’s the matter?”

“That is not…” Spock squirmed. “I--it is unlikely you will be able to stimulate me sufficiently with your mouth.”

McCoy arched his brow. “Oh?”

Spock’s lips thinned. “At least, not in the way which I desire.”

He meant inside, of course, and McCoy placated him with his hands. Gradually, Spock’s annoyance seemed to abate. “I know,” he said, and by the skin of his teeth he stopped himself from calling Spock ‘darling.’ “But if you’re anything like a human you’ll be able to have more than one tonight. I just want to make you feel nice and sweet. It may help loosen you up, make it easier for the next one.”

Spock was nodding along by the time he was done, seeming to find his argument logical. “Very well,” he said, and he let his leg fall beside the couch so that he was utterly exposed to McCoy’s gaze and mouth and hands. “You may proceed.”

It was so clinical that it should have been annoying, but it just made McCoy laugh. He ducked back down and mouthed at Spock again, and was surprised when he felt a small protrusion that made Spock jerk beneath him.

He pulled away quickly, but Spock didn’t seem to be in pain. McCoy took a look, pushing his thumbs between Spock’s soft lips to find his clit. It was hooded and deep green, and nearly two centimeters long.

“Huh.”

“A problem?”

“Not at all.” This might actually make it easier. “Just bigger than I expected.”

“I believe my _lok_ is average size. For a Vulcan.”

That made sense, and McCoy shelved any follow up thoughts for later as he carefully ran his thumb along the length of Spock’s clit--his _lok_ , he’d called it. Whatever it was it must have felt damn good, because Spock’s whole body undulated at the touch, and a soft whine escaped his lips. Emboldened, McCoy pressed a kiss to it and then curled his tongue to wrap around it.

“Ah!” Spock’s hips tensed beneath him and he bucked up. McCoy rode it out for a while, using Spock’s motions to teach him where to lick and where to touch, how to pleasure him. When it got too intense on the exposed tip and Spock hummed discordantly and shied away, McCoy moved to the safer ground of long slow licks along the underside of his clit.

Spock was still dry, and that was worrisome (and, if McCoy was honest with himself, it kind of hurt his pride). McCoy explored him carefully because of that. The hood of his clit was the only place putting out any moisture, but it was no more than a drop or two now and then. So McCoy let himself drool--which was really what he wanted to do anyway, with all of Spock’s enticing skin so open and willing beneath him. He ran his fingers through his saliva and touched the sensitive inner skin of Spock’s lips. He found the vaginal opening without trouble, but was shocked at how narrow it was. Too tight to push in just yet, and so he just trailed over the quivering muscles as Spock shuddered under him.

He was surprised when Spock’s hands came to his head, running through his hair. He looked up from his work to see Spock had his head thrown back, his chest heaving as McCoy ate him out. Spock pulled his hair and then petted him, sending shivers down his spine. He rewarded Spock’s touch with a good long suck of his clit that made Spock mewl softly.

He thought that Spock’s opening was wider now--some sort of response to arousal?--but he was still dry as a bone as McCoy slipped the tip of his middle finger in. Worried, McCoy lifted his face and pressed a kiss to Spock’s inner thigh.

“Spock, is this okay?”

Spock went still. Slowly, laboriously, he lifted his head to frown at McCoy. “Are you doing something wrong?”

He had trouble parsing the question. “I mean...I must be. You’re so dry, Spock. Is this...turning you on at all?”

“Ah.” Spock relaxed. His hand petted McCoy’s hair again, almost kindly. “You will find that I will not grow wet regardless of the intensity of your ministrations. It is the Vulcan male who produces bodily fluids during intercourse. But I assure you, Doctor,” he murmured, tracing the shell of McCoy’s ear. “I am quite aroused.”

He gulped. He barely managed to say, “Okay,” before diving in again.

Knowing that Spock was turned on--that Spock _liked_ it, was aroused by it, was pleasured by McCoy’s tongue--made him redouble his efforts. He pulled out every trick he had learned in the last fifteen minutes and soon had Spock quaking and gasping under his mouth. He rubbed at Spock’s hole just because it was sensitive and soon Spock’s powerful legs were closing around his ears. Spock was still just as strong as ever (they had all the tests to prove it) and McCoy felt that strength as Spock began to shake, his leg muscles bunching and clenching, spine arching as he let out a—

 _Whimper_. God damn. Spock was _whimpering_ as he came. McCoy was stunned by the sound, absolutely lost in the soft, pained cries of Spock’s orgasm. He kept sucking and licking through it all, mostly on autopilot and too fascinated to really give much thought to anything but the sheer pleasure he felt at Spock’s moans.

Spock’s aftershocks were muted and subtle, and McCoy still coaxed him through them. After a while he pulled away and wiped off his chin, resting against Spock’s inner thigh to look up at him.

His heart clenched. Spock was so beautiful like this, with his head thrown back, eyes closed as he caught his breath. McCoy felt like he could watch Spock like this all day.

It took Spock a while to relax, finally cracking open his eyes to look down at McCoy watching him. He seemed to struggle for something to say before finally muttering, “...You are quite skilled at that.”

He chuckled, feeling a little burst of pride and pleasure. “Why thank you,” he said. “Are you ready for round two? Why don’t we take this to the bed, where things will be more comfortable?”

Spock nodded, but when he tried to stand his legs were wobbly. McCoy only gave him a moment to try and get situated before he playfully swept Spock off his feet. Spock was heavier than he looked, since all that muscle had merely gone compact and dense, but it was still doable. Spock made it easy for him, wrapping his legs around McCoy’s waist and his arms around his neck as he carried him into the bedroom.

He laid Spock out on the bedspread and Spock lounged there, his hands falling beside his head, chest arching up perfectly for McCoy to begin touching him again, his legs still encircling McCoy’s waist. McCoy gazed down at him and realized that he had made a huge mistake.

He’d gotten so caught up in the sex, in Spock’s pleasure, that he’d forgotten this wasn’t real. He’d forgotten that he couldn’t just casually carry Spock to bed and have his way with him. It had seemed so natural to do--and even now with Spock’s body so soft and small under his broad palms, it seemed right.

But it couldn’t be right. Painfully, McCoy pulled away and let Spock’s legs fall. He reached into the bedside cabinet and pulled out a jar of lubricant.

Spock took it from him before he could open it, studying it curiously. “What is the purpose of this?”

“Your body doesn’t produce its own, so.” He shrugged.

“I see.” Spock turned it over in his hands and then opened the top, dipping his fingers inside. They came away wet. “You will use this to penetrate me?”

McCoy stopped breathing. He hadn’t thought that far ahead, but of course that was what was going to happen. What else could he do? He didn’t have any toys built for a vagina, and his fingers probably wouldn’t be long enough to stimulate Spock from the inside. He just...hadn’t thought about it.

But now that he had he could feel his cock giving an interested twitch in his pants. Spock was still so damned _naked_ (and when had that happened? God, this was like a dream…) and so beautiful and perfect and, yes, sexy, too.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice raw. “If you want.”

Spock shimmied backwards on the bed so his head came to rest on the pillows, his hair fluttering against his skin. “I do.”

“We’ll have to take it slow.” He took back the lubricant and dipped his own fingers inside, climbing between Spock’s legs. “I’m not...I mean, this is your first time.”

“Yes,” Spock said, and his legs parted so wonderfully for McCoy’s touch as he traced the silky opening of his body. “In this body, it is.”

“...You’ve done this before? Been...penetrated?”

“I have.” Spock’s back was arched and his hips were rolling, moving in tiny circles that encouraged McCoy to brush feather-light over his hole. “Not in this manner, of course.”

“Of course,” he said thickly, and let his middle finger slide inside. “Did you like it?”

Why was he asking? He hated himself for asking. But Spock only sighed as his finger breached him, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “It was acceptable,” he said. “The person I was with was...somewhat inept. Inattentive. I did not attempt to repeat the experience.”

McCoy had always sort of figured that Spock had only ever dated Uhura, but something about his phrasing made him question that now. “You didn’t come, you mean.”

Spock’s brown eyes fell to his, blown open with arousal. “He did. I did not.”

McCoy wasn’t normally the jealous type, but then it wasn’t precisely jealousy that flared through him. More like rage. The thought of Spock getting used by someone made him furious, doubly so because his mind was trying to picture it even as he fought not to. But it was too easy to imagine Spock on his front, a faceless stranger entering him from behind. Had it hurt? Probably, if the other person was as inept as Spock implied. It had probably hurt as he’d laid there, utterly still, until the other person got what he needed and left Spock sore and unfulfilled.

He made a silent vow to himself to never let that happen to Spock again (a vow he knew, instantly, that he had no hope of keeping. But still, he swore it to himself).

“What about now?” he whispered, soft, as he began to gently fuck Spock with his finger, shocked at how tight Spock was. “Do you like this?”

Spock made a considering sound. “You are warm,” he said, and that wasn’t really an answer and he seemed to realize it because he blinked and sat up to take McCoy by the back of the neck, pulling them together again. Spock’s breath ghosted over his lips. “Warm, and gentle. I have often thought...in other circumstances...that you have the most talented hands in Starfleet. I am gratified to be proven correct.”

McCoy shuddered at the casual praise. He wanted to kiss Spock so badly--and he was right there! He could do it; he could close that scant space between them and take Spock’s sweet mouth just as he was taking the rest of him. But that would make it too real, and so instead he distracted himself with mouthing along the junction of Spock’s jaw.

“Gonna put another in.”

He could feel Spock nod, and then the sharp jolt of his inhale as McCoy pressed two fingers inside of him. He fingered Spock slowly, getting him nice and wet as Spock hugged him close. He nipped at Spock’s neck and then couldn’t resist the point of his swooped ear.

“ _Hn_!” Spock writhed beneath him. “Please...again?”

McCoy couldn’t say no to that. He sucked Spock’s pointed ear and thrust his fingers inside his body, and he was certain now that Spock was widening to let him in. He let his thumb come up to tickle at the base of Spock’s clit just because he liked to hear Spock moan.

“Yeah?” he growled. “You like that?”

“More! Please, I-- _Please_.”

He played with Spock until Spock’s moans turned disjointed, and then he pulled his hand away. He looked down and saw that Spock was smeared wet now with lube, and a touch to his opening revealed it was sensitive and needy.

McCoy grinned, only to choke when he felt Spock’s hand cup him through his pants.

Shit--he’d forgotten he was still half dressed. He jerked as Spock fondled him through the fabric, his long hand deft and sure.

“Spock…”

“You are erect.”

He laughed. “Yeah. Figured that would be obvious.”

Spock was looking at the tent in his pants with clear, intense interest. “I wish to see you.”

“Yeah,” he said, stunned by the look on Spock’s face. “Yeah, okay.”

Together, they got his trousers open and McCoy kicked them away. It was a struggle to get his underwear off because Spock’s hands seemed to find all that newly exposed skin to be, well, _fascinating_. Spock sat up and touched his legs, his knees, the backs of his thighs, his calf muscles tense with effort, and then lifted his hands to cup his ass.

“Jesus…” He trailed off as Spock kneaded him, fingers dancing in between, and he wanted desperately to ask Spock to finger him, too. He liked that; he _really_ liked that. But this wasn’t about him. “C’mon now d--Spock. Lie back.”

Spock went willingly and then watched as McCoy slicked himself up. Just the sensation of his own wet hand around his cock was enough to make him bite hard on his lip, and then he was lining up with Spock’s entrance.

He knew he had to go slow, but still he was shocked at how hard it was to press in. Spock’s body seemed to resist him despite all the slickness and the fondling. He propped himself up on his arms and looked down at Spock, concerned.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You are not.” One of Spock’s hands had fallen to his chest, and McCoy watched in shock as he curled his fingers around his own nipple.

“I’m-I’m not even in yet.”

“I would like you to be.”

The words made him gasp. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Spock lifted his hips. “Please? Fill me?”

McCoy nearly bit right through his lip as he pressed the head of his cock hard against Spock’s slick entrance. It was slow going, but he managed to slip inside, just the tip before Spock was writhing again beneath him.

“Hold on. Just hold still, darlin’.” He winced as the word slipped free, but there was no taking it back. He cupped Spock’s waist and held him down, pinned him to the bed. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

“You are not,” Spock gasped. “Please, I—”

“Shh. Just hold still.” He rocked forward another scant centimeter and God, it was too much. Spock was too hot and tight around him, his face was too open and too beautiful. McCoy couldn’t bear to look at him. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, and then tried for another centimeter.

No use. They needed more lube.

He pulled out and Spock made that soft whimper again, the one that went straight to McCoy’s dick. Looking down at Spock made his heart skip a beat, and he panicked.

“Turn over,” he said. “I think it will feel better for you.”

Spock frowned. “I do not think—”

“Hey,” he admonished softly, prodding at Spock’s hip with one wet hand. “Who’s the doctor here?”

Spock frown deepened, but he obeyed. He rolled to his hands and knees and presented himself to McCoy, glancing over his shoulder with one eyebrow raised. “Is this acceptable?”

“Yeah.” He mouth was dry. He pressed his hands to Spock’s bottom and watched, awed, as Spock arched into the contact. He entertained the brief fancy that maybe next time Spock would let him fuck him there before casting the idea aside. It was absurd.

He was wet enough now to push the head of his cock back inside of Spock. Spock murmured as he did it, turning his face against the blanket. That made it easier to start working his way in, deeper and deeper, each thrust tugging him inside of Spock’s warm body.

The shape of him was...odd. Alien, really, unlike anything McCoy had experienced before. He was tight as hell inside, but the sensation of being squeezed only intensified the further McCoy went. He was nearly in, watching himself disappear into that flushed green body, when suddenly he felt something tickling the head of his cock.

He froze and then jerked in surprise as the tickle intensified. “What the hell is that?”

Spock hummed dreamily. “What, Doctor?”

“That…” _Fuck_ , he had to close his eyes. It felt like something was brushing over the head of his cock, fluttering and slightly rough, stimulating him so much that he was about to fly apart and he wasn’t even moving yet. “Feels like...hairs?”

“Ah, my cilia. I had wondered if I would possess them, given my human heritage.” Spock punctuated the statement by leaning back on McCoy’s dick, and the wiggling touch engulfed him.

“Fuck! What is the—” He struggled for breath. “--The-the purpose of that?”

“Stimulation during mating,” Spock told him. “Is it working?”

“It’s…” He couldn’t bear it any longer. He was about a half second away from just coming inside of Spock, which they certainly hadn’t agreed to. He yanked out quickly to escape the sensation, and Spock yelped.

“Doctor,” he whined.

“Sorry,” he said, and then processed how _good_ it sounded to hear Spock sounding so needy. “Sorry, just...here. Just relax for me.” He began to move again, holding his base in his hand so as not to slip in too far, just rubbing the curve of his erection hard against Spock’s inner wall. “Just relax,” he murmured. “Does it feel good?”

Spock shivered at the contact, his head bowed low, shoulders tense with strain. He murmured something that was probably an affirmative.

McCoy chuckled and kept right on thrusting, stroking over Spock until he was flushed green and his hips were moving apparently-unconsciously back to try and take more of McCoy into him.

“You like that, huh?” McCoy asked. Spock murmured again and McCoy hummed, pleased, and folded himself over Spock. He mouthed at the back of Spock’s neck, whispering, “You like getting filled up, darlin’?”

“Yes,” Spock whimpered, and then gasped as McCoy nipped at his ear. “Please, Doctor. Again.”

“Like when I bite you here?” he asked, licking a swath up the swoop of Spock’s ear.

“Yes…” Spock was writhing beneath him now, panting. “But that is not...what I require more of.”

“You need more of me inside you?”

“That is perfect,” Spock breathed. The back of his neck was emerald green, and his ears were hot with embarrassment against McCoy’s lips. “No, I need—I require—Please, Doct—Leonard. Please call me that again.”

He inhaled, surprised. “You want me to call you darlin’?”

“ _Yes_.”

Spock’s face was hidden and McCoy suddenly wished he hadn’t chickened out earlier and instead had kept Spock on his back. He wished he could see him now as he wrapped his arm around Spock’s chest and cupped one breast in his hand, still thrusting languid and slow inside Spock’s body to feel the shudders of pleasure roll through him.

“Darlin’,” he murmured against Spock’s neck. “You’re doing so well.”

Spock whimpered again.

“Getting close? You’re so sweet and open. It’s amazing seeing you like this, darlin’. Does it feel good? You can tell me.”

“Feels...as it did with your mouth pleasuring me but...more. Diffuse.”

“Mm, that’s good. You liked me having my mouth on you?”

“...Yes.”

“You tasted good, Spock,” he said honestly, losing himself a little in the fantasy of their dirty talk. “I was so damned hungry to have you in my mouth I got a little sloppy. Got you all wet and slick as I licked you.”

“Mm!”

God, those noises. They were coming faster now, high-pitched and loose, and Spock seemed totally incapable of stopping them. “You feel so good, darlin’. Just want to see you come again. God, I just--I just want to make you feel good.” He bit his lip hard, swallowing what he wanted to say next. “Can you?” he murmured instead. “Can you come and let me see?”

Spock made a soft, broken sound, and his thighs began to shake. Every inch of him seemed to twitch and spasm as McCoy pulled him apart from the inside out. McCoy could feel Spock tensing and squeezing around his cock and it made him shudder with want.

The pleasure slowed in increments, aftershocks more violent now than they had been before, every part of Spock soft and open as McCoy thrust shallowly into his body and murmured into his ear quiet praise, words too low to hear, but he knew Spock still understood.

When he was done, Spock slumped fully against the bedspread. McCoy had to grip the base of his cock hard to keep himself from simply pushing back into that flushed, silky warmth. Spock just looked so spent, so open and willing. But he couldn’t.

He pulled out instead and leaned down beside Spock, running his hands over Spock’s lower back to soothe him. “I take it that was successful?”

Spock rolled his head to look at him, brown eyes startlingly expressive. McCoy often felt he could get lost in those eyes. “Yes,” Spock said simply. “Leonard, you have not come.”

“It’s fine,” he said, waving a hand. “This was for you.”

The statement was true but Spock was giving him that look again: like he was an illogical, gibbering idiot. Spock pulled himself up and looked down at McCoy sternly as he reached out and grabbed his cock.

McCoy jerked at the contact, sliding across Spock’s slim palm. “What are you—?”

“You are an attentive lover, Leonard McCoy,” he said matter-of-factly. Spock jacked him slowly and pushed him back with his other hand, laying him out flat. “Allow me to return the favor.”

McCoy was too stunned to respond as Spock straddled him, lifting his hips to line McCoy up with his slick entrance. His hands came automatically to Spock’s waist and he felt the soft padding of his hips--hardly more than Spock normally had, but just enough to grip tightly, encouragingly, as Spock settled down.

Spock’s head tipped back as he first entered him, tongue swiping out across his lower lip again. “It is...different.”

“Different angle,” McCoy managed, tense from the sensation of Spock’s warmth enveloping him.

“I enjoy this angle as well.” Spock began to rock down, controlling the motion of his hips as he slowly engulfed more and more of McCoy’s length, taking it inside of him as if that were precisely where it was meant to be. “Do you enjoy it, Leonard?”

“Feels--ah!” He jerked as the head of his cock came into contact with Spock’s inner cilia again, and the little devils seemed upset he had left earlier. They wrapped around him, rubbing roughly, and he thought he felt them sucking to keep him in closer. “Spock!”

Spock only moaned as McCoy settled within him. “You are much...deeper…”

“Sorry.”

“Do not apologize.” Spock rocked his hips, and the motion wrenched a gasp from some primal place inside of McCoy. “Fuck me, Leonard.”

Even if he still had the sense God gave a clam, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from doing it. His hands tightened around Spock’s waist and Spock lifted helpfully, and McCoy slid halfway out before snapping his hips back up and driving hard into Spock’s body. Each thrust was like being lit from the inside out. Spock was warm and wet, and his cilia clung to McCoy each time he got close enough, and Spock was clenching around him, his breasts bouncing as he rode McCoy’s dick like he was goddamned expert at it. The only problem was Spock’s face was still out of view, his neck arched up.

“Spock—” McCoy shuddered. “--let me look at you?”

Spock pitched forward, eyes locking to McCoy’s and--oh. Oh. No wonder Spock had been looking away because it was too clear, far too clear, how he felt about the situation. Those brown eyes were wide and filled with that emotion that should have been terrifying, but wasn’t. His brow was pinched in concentration at all this pleasure, his mouth open and panting.

McCoy lifted up to take that mouth, and they were tumbling over so McCoy could pin him to the bed again, one hand dancing down Spock’s stomach to rub at his clit as they tangled together.

Spock was no passive kisser. The floodgates seemed to open and he was shoving back into McCoy, claiming him with his tongue before pulling back so he could bite at his lips, suckle at them, roll them between his teeth as McCoy stroked his clit and drew jerky gasps from his throat.

He pounded Spock into the mattress and felt Spock giving himself over to it, to the pleasure of it. Spock’s hands bracketed his face and pulled him in, tugging on his ears to keep him steady, and he was getting too close.

With one final nip to Spock’s lips he pulled away, trying to get his head on straight. “Spock...I’m gonna—”

Spock didn’t let him finish. He wrapped his legs high around McCoy’s waist and pulled him back in for another kiss that left him feeling raw and growled, “ _Yes_. You will. Inside of me.”

Everything suddenly became too much, and for a moment he was floating, and all the sensations were the same: Spock hot and tight around him, cilia fluttering over his cockhead, hands tugging his neck, lips biting his, pleasure pooling in his stomach, everything so tense and perfect, the urge too much and he couldn’t fight it. Didn’t really want to, anyway.

He came with a groan that Spock happily swallowed, lapping at the inside of his mouth when it went lax from the force of his orgasm. He emptied out inside of Spock, filling him up, and kept his hand working at Spock’s clit until he felt Spock squeeze around him with a whimper.

He realized, vaguely, that Spock was still kissing him. Somehow he had collapsed and Spock had rolled them over. Spock was still exploring the inside of his mouth even as he softened inside Spock’s body. He mustered the energy to kiss back, and Spock relaxed against him.

They kissed until he was dizzy, until he couldn’t remember what it was like to breathe, as if they had to make up for all the kissing they hadn’t done earlier. McCoy touched Spock here and there--not intending to arouse, but just wanting to feel him. After a while he could pull out and they lay together and kissed some more, until it was late and McCoy’s lips were tender.

“We should get you cleaned up,” he whispered, and then nosed alongside Spock’s jaw.

“Hmm,” Spock mumbled, not quite an agreement but close. His hands smoothed down McCoy’s flank and settled on his bottom, and he sighed as McCoy found a small stretch of skin and worried it with his teeth. “...That is not conducive to me leaving.”

McCoy chuckled and cupped Spock’s hip, drawing him close. “Didn’t say you had to leave,” he murmured.

With clear reluctance, Spock pulled away and disappeared into the bathroom. McCoy watched him go, feeling warm and happy, and he realized he was grinning like a loon when Spock came back in and gave him a sour look that faded almost instantly.

Spock crawled into bed alongside him, fitting perfectly into his arms. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” He smoothed Spock’s hair and kissed his frowning forehead. “I’m just hoping it was good for you.”

“It was,” Spock said, settling against his body. “Very good.”

McCoy started to say something else, but it got lost in a yawn which he smothered against the back of his hand. “...Just gonna...close my eyes for a bit. You can stay, if you want.”

“...Thank you. I believe I will.”

He did close his eyes, holding Spock close to him. He could feel Spock’s hands on his waist, lips on the hollow of his throat. He slept.

In the morning he cracked open one eye and jerked in surprise to find Spock looking at him. Spock was big and solid in his arms, still fitting perfectly, but in a new way, the hairs on his chest lightly tickling McCoy.

“Spock, I…” He trailed off, uncertain what to say now that it was the morning after and Spock had apparently changed back in the night, and he had a goddamned morning erection poking at Spock’s hip.

Spock gave him a considering look. Without aplomb he looped his leg around McCoy’s thigh and flipped them. McCoy grunted at the commotion, his hands settling on Spock’s narrow hips, eyes raking up the length of Spock’s body as Spock sat back so that his bottom brushed enticingly over McCoy’s cock. He touched McCoy’s ear with sturdy fingers and very nearly smiled.

“I wish to experience a prostate-induced orgasm,” Spock said, and McCoy gave the only reasonable response to that, which was to flip Spock over and set to work.


End file.
